Trouble Under Venus

by Autumn Piper

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t bet on the Red Sox winning the series for a long time, yet.”

  He chuckled. “Okay.”

  “One more thing. I know you’re planning to leave town. This is just…” Mitch was heading out the door. “…for good luck. And to, like, remember me by.” I pressed the turtle into his palm. “I’d really like it if you’d meet me in Sedona on July seventeenth, 2010. At Bell Rock.”

  “July seventeenth?”

  “Yeah, seventeenth, like my birthday. At nine AM. It’ll be hotter than shit later on.”

  He turned the turtle over in his hand. “It’s broken. What kinda fuckin’ good luck charm is broken?”

  Same old Dennis. “I’ve got the other leg here. It snapped off in my pocket last night but I’ve been dragging it around with me.”

  “You believe it’s still lucky, even if you keep the other leg?” He was wearing that shit-eating grin again.

  “Do you want the other leg? How ’bout I stick it up your nose, smart ass?”

  Mitch sauntered up. “Family feud already?” He hadn’t bought a damn thing, after all that time in the store. “I got five bucks on your pump, man.” He unscrewed his gas cap and stuck the pump nozzle in.

  Dennis nodded, but didn’t move. His grin faded somewhat. We stood there looking at each other like a couple of idiots while the gas gurgled into Mitch’s tank. It would be full soon, and we’d leave.

  As the pump clicked off, Dennis stepped toward me. “Comere.” His voice sounded broken, foreign. Cool collected Keen was losing it. He gave me a long, hard hug. “Some guy did a damn good job raisin’ ya. Sorry. Sometimes things just…well, sorry.” And then he let go and walked into the store. At the door, he stopped and put the turtle in his pocket.

  “You okay?” Mitch’s voice was gentle behind me, his arms strong around me.

  No. The hole I’d had my whole life was now filled with a big, throbbing hurt.

  “Let’s…go. Out of Miami. We’re done here.”

  Chapter 35

  Stars shone bright above us. What remained of the moon cast just enough light for us to see the trail.

  I huffed and puffed in an effort keep up with Mitch.

  After three solid days on the back of his bike, my legs were truly in pain.

  He’d shocked me when we’d arrived at Sedona and found a storage unit to stow the bike in, and prepaid for both the storage and a post office box for thirty years. A gamble, but it would be really cool if the bike was still there when we got back to 2010.

  Which had left us to hike all the way out to the Bell Rock vortex, even farther away from town in 1980.

  “Wow. Look how tiny town looks from up here.” Maybe he’d stop to look and allow me to catch up.

  “You all right back there?” He backtracked to where I stood. “Ready?”

  I was. I’d done what I set out to do, finished with the past. Now it was time to go home and face my future. Our future.

  The trees around my little triangular vortex were just as twisted as I remembered. We stepped off the trail and I felt the power right away.

  This would be easy. Not because the vortex had so much energy, but because we were here together.

  Instead of sitting back-to-back like we had that day in Grand Canyon, he held me in front of him, safe in his arms, my hands in his. Oh, this was much better.

  Concentrating with him so near was hard. It took several minutes for me to quit wiggling and squelch the urge to roll him over and make out. But I had to.

  I leaned against him, acutely aware of each place our bodies touched. Those hands of his, if he’d only move them a bit lower…or higher, like he had in bed last night. No, the breasts were for his mouth. Hands lower. We’d been nearly as exhausted as tonight, but easing into a comfy snuggle had ended with drowsy, scorching lovemaking. The kind of lovemaking you think of days later and your heart rate ratchets. Like now, remembering him hot and heavy as a ton of bricks and sliding between my—

  “Randi. Knock it off, or we’ll end up back in that crappy hotel room again.”

  And he did mean again. We’d already been here once the night before and only managed to sling ourselves back fourteen hours to the room in that dinky Texas town.

  “Oops. Sorry.”

  With an effort, I thought of the trees around us in their counterclockwise spirals. Focused on how secure I felt with Mitch. Happy. Understood.

  Ahh. There was the place inside I knew. Silence surrounded us, hemmed by the sound of his heartbeat and mine. I relaxed against him, felt his body melt toward mine. Gravity lessened; our weight seemed like nothing. I conjured the image of The Feng Shui Inn. Mitch joined me. The rocks around us seemed to circle, we spun without moving. Energy hummed and buzzed and lit the whirlpool around us. Not like last time, no extra images to trip me up. Mitch and me and our destination. It felt complete, meant to be. Right.

  The Inn loomed before us, exactly like we’d left it. In fact, the same sunflower next to the door was about to open and bloom. A small jolt knocked the top of my head into his chin. Yowch. The Stu-bump was still tender.

  The glow intensified. Daylight.

  We’d done it!

  “That was, like, way easier than last time.” Thank God.

  “Looks like somebody was expecting us.” He pointed to an upstairs window, where a small figure moved aside and a curtain fell back into place.

  “Sudo.”

  He was outside almost instantly, waving us in and herding us up to his office.

  I couldn’t resist snagging a newspaper from the desk on the way up. Not that I cared too much about the news; all I wanted was the date.

  July 12, 2010. Five more days. Would he show up?

  “Randi.”

  “Hmm?”

  “The professor asked if you wanted anything to eat.”

  “Oh. No. We, well, we just had dinner, like an hour ago.”

  Sudo nodded. “You will be tired. Jet lag is a picnic compared to time-lag, yes?” He pointed out his window across the courtyard. “You just returned from your trip to Grand Canyon.” Of course, the picture was taken before we left on our trip, so we were actually back a day earlier than we’d left. “I had planned a meeting with you two, but Mitchell came by a few moments ago and postponed it. I believe he had other plans for your day?”

  Like a romantic trip to the observatory. Wow, how would things have been different if I’d called my mom that morning instead of procrastinating? Mitch and I would have gotten jiggy lots sooner, for sure. And who knew how we’d have handled arriving in Miami together? I might have really messed things up that day, but maybe it was for the best, knowing how things turned out.

  Mitch cleared his throat. “Yeah. So I guess we need to make ourselves scarce until sometime early tomorrow morning, huh?”

  True. We might really screw with our own heads if we ran into ourselves.

  Sudo smiled. “Get some rest. This key is for the suite in the back wing.” He handed it to Mitch. “My wife assures me you’ll only want one room? Come back this evening for your post-travel interviews.”

  “Oh. I apologize in advance,” I said, “but my mother and sister will be showing up here later.” Might as well give him as much warning as possible. “And they called the, um, FBI. I’m sorry.”

  He put his hands, palms together, in front of his chest. “It was only a matter of time. Do not concern yourself.”

  * * * *

  Mitch lay snoring in the bed, but I couldn’t sleep. We’d rested all afternoon, interviewed with Sudo, and come back to the room. Apparently all the nights spent keeping an eye on me in Miami had caught up with the Goodbody. Poor guy.

  I stood at the suite window, watching as three people I alternately loved and hated ransacked my room.

  At the edge of the dark courtyard, two very close figures appeared. He paused, looking toward my window, then moved with caution. She stood up tall
and marched straight for the room.

  Let the circus begin. I really didn’t care to watch and relive all those arguments, so I turned away. And bumped smack into Mitch.

  “Hey.” His arms captured me, hands kneaded up and down my back.

  I refused to watch what was happening out the window, but he’d see it all.

  “Man, was I smooth, swiping that journal right from under your nose,” he chuckled. “None of you even noticed. It was an awesome read, by the way. Never been called a dreamboat before.”

  Not to his face. But surely some girl before me had recognized what a hunka hunka burnin’ love he was. “Don’t let it bloat your head.”

  “Speaking of bloat. Any idea when you’ll know if you’re, um, pregnant?”

  Ah, he must’ve decided it was time to quit sidestepping the issue. “Not exactly. I’m, like not great at keeping track of that stuff.” Which wasn’t entirely true. My period ironically came about the same time as my Panty of the Month. Which was around the tenth. Though we’d been steadfast about using condoms since that first time, there was always a chance. Still, I couldn’t see the point in needlessly worrying him.

  “Oh. You think you’ll know before your rendezvous?” Did he sound nervous? “Will you tell him, if you are?”

  I shrugged, or attempted to. With the weight of his arms resting on my shoulders, they didn’t really lift. “It’s not like he’s in a position to be judgmental.”

  “I want you to come with me tomorrow.”

  Leaning back so I could see his face, I asked, “Where?”

  “Jesus. Someplace far away from Lonnie.” Across the courtyard, our obnoxious Texan friend was singing and pounding on my door. And soon, my belatedly protective ex would pound on Lonnie. “Come with me to D.C. while I button up some stuff with the case. Stay with me a few days. We’ll be back in plenty of time for you to meet your dad.”

  Tempting. “You know I’ve gotta stick around in the morning long enough to convince my mom and Melissa that I’m not going back in time.” Not to mention come up with some story about where I’d be going for the next week, instead of home. Somehow I didn’t think Mom would take kindly to me running off with a guy who, in her opinion, I’d just met.

  “Fine. I’ve got a couple things in town to do.”

  “Like see if your bike is still in storage.”

  “Our bike. You got it for me, remember? Come on back to bed. If I stand here and watch your ex hump that bed any longer, I’ll have to go kick his ass.”

  Chapter 36

  Eight AM, July seventeenth. This was it.

  The hike up Bell Rock wouldn’t take a full hour, so I sat in the little parking area at the bottom, savoring the excitement.

  A big pick-up truck, three SUV’s, a banged-up Civic, and a Jag were parked around me. I couldn’t help thinking the Jag belonged to Dennis. If he’d heeded my investment advice, he should be damn comfortable, financially speaking. If there’d been a Harley around, I’d have guessed that was his ride. But he’d probably matured.

  My moment of truth, and I was facing it alone. I’d insisted Mitch stay in D.C. for his promotion party. As understanding as he’d been about how important meeting my father was, I couldn’t possibly ask him to miss such a big career milestone. In fact, I felt a bit guilty I couldn’t be there to share it with him.

  My right hand worried a stone in the bracelet on the other arm. Mitch had bought it for me the last morning we were in Sedona together. Though no official commitment had been voiced, he had made sure to put in on my left wrist. He’d made a point of playing The Rose while he did it, too. So it meant something.

  We had a future together, that much I knew. In a few months, my belly would be as round as that half-circle of turquoise. I’d confirmed it last night, alone in a room at The Feng Shui Inn. Some things a girl had to do on her own. Now I wished I’d called Mitch and told him, but over the phone didn’t seem right. I needed to see his face, meter his reaction. Of course he’d do the right thing. That was Mitch. But it would be swell if he felt even a tenth as pleased about it as I did. And now, since I hadn’t called him, I was faced with another decision. I’d really like to tell Dennis he was going to be a grandpa. But Mitch should be the first to know.

  Besides, Dennis might already be a grandpa. He might show up here with a wife and multiple other kids, for all I knew.

  He might not show up at all.

  Which I refused to ponder. He’d be there. He’d cared about me, I knew it. Not out of obligation, not because he’d bonded with some infant with big round eyes and felt responsible for her care and upbringing. He’d known me. As good as said he was proud of me, when he’d given me that last hug.

  He’d be there.

  I said it to myself countless times during my hike. Repeated it as I rested in the shade of a gnarled cedar and drank water, while watching a couple run down the trail. I knew he wouldn’t stand me up, when I walked past the triangular vortex.

  He’d be there. With the turtle, and that cocky grin. Knowing him, in a leather jacket, only now it would be a pricey Italian one.

  A couple of cyclists passed me on the way up, several more hikers heading back to their cars smiled and waved. The day was heating up. The smart people had been out early.

  Only a little further, and I’d round the corner. This should be the place, though he might be waiting at another viewing area. Lousy planning on my part, not designating a particular meeting place.

  I was nearly out of breath when the trail turned out of the brush.

  A couple of teenage boys slumped over their bikes slurping Gatorade. One older lady showing lots of wrinkly skin stretched her quads.

  And him. His back was to me at first, but then he turned and I knew. He looked the same, minus the leather jacket. He was in running clothes, rather pricey looking ones. Had an L.L. Bean backpack at his feet.

  I smiled at him and hurried over.

  Why was he hesitant? His smile seemed so…polite. What, no smart-ass grin or comment about me being old? He damn well couldn’t make fun of me being old now, since he was the old one.

  Only, he wasn’t. He was, if anything, younger.

  What the hell—I looked around for an older man. Where was he? He’d be there. I knew it.

  “Hi. I’m looking for…” Who should I say I was looking for? If he’d changed his name, nobody would know him as Dennis Keenan.

  “This?” The glass turtle gleamed in his palm.

  Not exactly. But partly. “Yes. Where’s—” I reached for the turtle, but he pulled his hand back.

  “He said you’d have the other leg.”

  “I do.” I produced my evidence from a pocket, one tiny crooked green glass leg.

  He nodded, satisfied. “He sent these for you.” Out of the backpack, he pulled my journal and a lumpy manila envelope. And one tightly rolled, wrinkled leather jacket. Oh God.

  “I don’t understand. He didn’t come?” I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my voice as I accepted the things. Lifting the flap of the envelope, I saw a stack of legal-looking papers and two bullet slugs. And quite a few twenty-dollar bills with holes in them. I had so much to tell him. So much to ask him.

  “Our father had a massive heart attack two years ago.”

  “He…” I really needed to sit. But needed to understand first. “…died?”

  “Yes.” His voice softened and he kept talking but I couldn’t focus. My dad was dead? “…like the picture of his mother.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I said, you look just like the picture of his mother.”

  “Oh. Thanks. I mean, yeah.” He was dead?

  “I never knew about his other family until after he’d passed away. He left instructions in his will. There’s a provision for you in his estate. However, the trust fund specifically forbade contact with you until this date.”

  “Oh.” So I was the other family now. How strange. Silly of me to expect he’d have talked about me after he made a fresh start
. I was part of his past. Never made it to his future.

  “Do you keep in contact with her?” Though he remained polite, he seemed excited.

  “Hum? Who?”

  “His mother.”

  “Um.” This would be a disappointing day for him, too. “She passed away in ninety.”

  “I see.” He nodded and did a much better job than me at keeping emotion out of his voice. “Look. I know this is awkward. Here’s my card. Feel free to call me as needed.”

  As needed. I didn’t really need a brother, now did I? I needed my dad. He was all I’d ever needed. And now I’d never have him.

  He laid the card on top of the envelope in my arms. Clearly sticking around to comfort some strange woman with tears streaming down her face wasn’t on Harley’s agenda.

  I watched him jog away.

  Dennis wouldn’t have been caught dead jogging. Or wearing running shorts. But maybe that was why his heart gave out when he was barely fifty.

  My dad was gone. Gone. Not missing, but permanently gone.

  Knowing his destiny wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  I clutched the jacket to my chest and sniffed. Old Spice. Sudden and overpowering grief hit, along with blinding tears. Maybe I’d better sit down before I added new bruises to the fading ones.

  How convenient for this bench to be here, in the shade. Where I could sit and rest, with my only material links to my dad. The notebook smelled like Old Spice, too. How many times had he read it?

  One day I’d have to put in a final entry, tie up loose emotional ends. I flipped through the pages I’d written, to find a few additional ones.

  March 17, 1980

  Dear Randi,

  Today is your 2nd birthday, which is strange to think of. Just wanted you to know I rescued your stuff when I went back to pick up my money.